


On Opening Doors

by Systlin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, THAT SCENE, they fuck, woooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Systlin/pseuds/Systlin
Summary: THROWS CONFETTI it's THAT scene. Poor Percy was not prepared for Naked Vex. That being said, he's very okay with how the rest of his night goes.





	1. Chapter 1

It was remarkable, really, Percy reflected, how very adept Vex’ahlia was at knocking him off-kilter. Always had been, from the moment she breezed into his cell like a breath of summer air, cheerfully out of place in the depressing gloom and telling him to ‘come on then, darling, let’s get you out of here.’

It took him a good ten seconds or so to remember how words worked. He’d seen Vex naked before, but it had usually been fleeting moments where he’d had to sneak a quick, surreptitious look out of the corner of his eyes.

Now, though, she was utterly, gloriously starkers in all her considerable glory, and leaning against her door frame with a smirk that told him she knew exactly what she was doing to him. He swallowed, then swallowed again as she cocked a hip and tossed her unbound hair back, the movement doing rather wonderful things to her breasts. He was blushing furiously. He knew he was, and he knew he was staring, but _damn_ if she wasn’t worth staring at.

“What was it you wanted, dear?” Her eyes were dancing, and that smirk was sin incarnate. He blinked a few times, tried to drag his thoughts back together. He’d had this all figured out. He had.

His pants, he noted vaguely in the part of his mind that was not utterly preoccupied at the moment, were beginning to feel rather uncomfortably tight.

“I…” He blinked again and swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Can’t remember. But it was generally heading in this direction.” And then, because, really, this was an excellent indication that his night was going to go, if not in the way he’d anticipated, then really very well anyway, “Can I come in?”

“Sure, of course!” She stepped back, with probably a little more of a sway to her hips than was really necessary. He watched every movement, fascinated, as he followed a step or two.

“Now.” She continued, her voice a low purr that went right through him. That smirk of hers was absolutely undoing him, which he suspected was exactly her intent. “Did you want to talk before, or after?”

_Oh._

It took him a moment, again, to remember how to work his jaw, because this is several of his most private fantasies come true, all at once. It…well it wasn’t how he’d pictured the night going, but…

He’d always been prone to moments of reckless, adrenaline-fueled courage. He’d found himself laughing in battle, more than once, as the world exploded in violence and madness and occasionally actual explosions. It had been a similar mood that took him in the forest, where he’d kissed her. Now, he could feel it again, as he tore his eyes away from all of her considerable charms to look her in the eyes. He was grinning now too, he knew, a smirk to match hers.

“This,” He pulled a bottle out of the bag at his side. “Is called Dire Heart.” A second bottle. “This we simply call Courage. This is Snow Mead. And this is Green Tier Whiskey. We’re going to start with the Courage, and not talk about dragons.”

She grinned that brilliant, wonderful smile of hers and took another step back. He followed her, quickly, slamming the door shut behind him and bolting it for good measure. He barely had time to set the bag aside before she had him by the lapels of his coat and was dragging him down for a kiss.

It was...

God, it just _was_.

When he’d kissed her before in the forest he’d been gentle, and it had lasted only a moment. Now, though, she was clinging to him like her life depended on it, all of that lovely bare skin pressed up against him. Her mouth was hot and demanding, and he stopped thinking so much and just kissed her back.

He wound a hand into her hair and tilted her head back to get a better angle; she was tugging at his coat. It took him a moment to realize that she was trying to get it off of him; when he let go of her just long enough to shrug out of it she planted both hands flat on his chest, purring in approval.

His back met the door. He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him again; she came to him willingly, eagerly, and went up on tiptoe to kiss him again. The curve of her waist was delicious in his hands; the curve of her ass was even better. He dropped his attention to the skin of her throat, kissing a line from her jaw down to her collarbone.

“Oh.” She tilted her head, humming in approval even as she tugged at his waistcoat. “ _Mmm_ …Percival, darling, why do you wear so many damned layers?”

“I couldn’t say.” He murmured this into the soft skin just behind her ear, and just because he wanted to, had wanted to for ages, and now could, he smoothed his hands up, over her hips, over her waist, savoring the softness of her skin, the occasional scar. “At the moment, I really couldn’t say.”

“Well, be a dear and take them off… _oooh_!” She arched beautifully into his touch as he cupped her breasts, almost reverently, half expecting to wake up any moment alone and frustrated in his own bed with a painfully hard erection.

He didn’t. Not even when he bent to kiss the curve of each breast, to taste the salt of her skin, to hear the deliciously heady moans when he ran his thumbs and then his tongue over each nipple. They pebbled at his touch, drawing tight and hard, and he groaned too, unable to help himself.

Vex moaned again, a lovely breathy sound, and this was a memory that he was going to carefully safeguard and treasure for the rest of his life, however possibly short it might be. But then she was tugging at him, insistent, and he reluctantly straightened.

Buttons popped off his waistcoat as she tore at it. He heard them _tick_ as the bounced on the floor, but couldn’t really bring himself to care at the moment. The waistcoat landed in a ruined mess, and Vex was pulling at his shirt, nearly frantic. Percy pulled it up and over his head; it landed on top of the waistcoat.

The look Vex’ahlia gave him should, by all rights, have ignited him on the spot. She was looking at him, he realized with a little spark of surprise, just as hungrily as he was looking at her. It was…new, to be looked at that way, and that she would…

“Gods.” Her voice was a low murmur. “Mmm. Darling.” Her hands were on his chest again, tracing the lines of muscle, the scars. His skin tingled as her touch drifted across it. “Just look at you.”

She kissed him again, and he kissed her, and it was fire and sweetness, and god, but his blood was burning, and he couldn’t have pulled together the clarity to answer her if he’d wanted to.

His boots got kicked off at some point between the door and the bed. As soon as they were gone, he slid his hands down to her thighs and hoisted her up; she wrapped her legs around his waist and made delighted noises against his lips the last few feet to the bed, and god but he wanted to do everything to her, all at once.

He set her down on the edge of the bed; as soon as she wasn’t clinging to his shoulders for support her hands were on his belt, fumbling. He helped, but before she could start working his trousers off he dropped to his knees and tugged at her hips, pulling her to the very edge of the bed.

The noise she made when he bent to taste her nearly finished him off then and there. It had been…well. It had been a long time, and he’d wanted to do this for so long, and the way she arched her back and breathed his name…

“Percy!” She spread her legs for him; settled her thighs over his shoulders. One of her hands threaded through his hair as he worked her with long slow strokes of his tongue; the other was fisted into the sheets. “ _Ooooooh_ …I just may have to keep you…yes, yes, there…”

 _Oh_ , and this was better than he’d imagined it, and he’d imagined it a lot. The dark curls between her legs were sparser than he’d expected, the hair shorter and finer. Half elf, he thought vaguely, and then stopped thinking at all when she arched her back again, ground her hips down against his face, and breathed his name again in that same delighted purr that went straight down his spine to his cock.

He wrapped an arm around her hips to keep her still. She was already wet, shockingly so, and that she would want _him_ , so intensely, was still somewhat incredible. She was wonderfully responsive, and it didn’t take long before her thighs tightened around his ears and her back arched off of the bed as she keened, breathless, and shuddered as he held her down and kept working her, slowly, savoring every moan and shudder.

“Oooh.” She sighed as she came down, muscles going lax, looking beautifully disheveled. “Oh, _darling_.”

He raised his head at last, kissed her belly just below her navel. His cock was actually throbbing now, his pants painfully uncomfortable. She tugged at his hair, gentle, and smiled down at him, smug as could be, the cat who’d gotten into the proverbial cream.

“Come here, you.” Her voice was low and fond.

He did, wrestling with his trousers as he went. As soon as his cock sprang free, she gave another of those delighted little purrs that were rapidly becoming his favorite sound in the entire world, and brushed her fingers down the trail of short hair leading downwards from his navel.

“Mmm. Darling. All for me?” She nipped at the skin under his jaw as he settled himself over her.

“Always.” His voice barely sounded like his own; it was low and rough and needy. “ _Always_.”

And with that she touched him, slim callused fingers tracing up the length of him, investigating the shape and tracing around the head, and something in him snapped. He kneed her legs apart, though she was already spreading them. Positioned himself, with her help, and then…and then..

He made a noise he hadn’t known he was capable of as he sank into that deliciously silken wet heat. Her legs wrapped around his hips as he hilted inside of her, shuddering. Pleasure rolled up his spine, so strongly that he stopped for a moment, breathing hard, to regain some measure of control.

“ _Gods_.” He breathed this against the soft cloud of her hair. “Vex…”

“ _Mm_.” She shifted her hips, drawing another groan out of him, and then twisted, using her legs around his hips as leverage. He was, quite suddenly, on his back underneath her; Vex, straddling him, shifted slightly as if settling in. She braced her hands on his chest, tossed her hair back over her shoulder. It was long enough, unbound, to tickle his thighs and groin.

“There we are.” She rose up a little, lowered herself, rolling her head back as he settled his hands on her thighs and thrust upwards. “Oh! Oh, yes, there we are…” She sighed, a low little sound of pleasure, and began to ride him, and all Percy could do was hold on for dear life.

The sight of her like this…nude, hair a wild mass falling around her, eyes closed as she rode him, her breasts bouncing with every motion, her lips parted as she moaned… _god_ , it was everything, everything he’d dreamed of, and it was good, it was _so_ good, and he gave himself over to it wholly.

He forgot Thordak. He forgot Raishan. He forgot everything, everything but her, everything but the heat building inside him, everything but the slick, hot slide of her, of the feel of her skin against his own and the sound of her panting moans. He wasn’t going to last; he’d known that. It had been far too long, and he’d wanted her far too desperately for the first time to be anything but quick and intense. And, sure enough, it wasn’t more than a few minutes before he felt himself tightening, his balls drawing up tight in preparation for release. The pressure in his groin was rising to a breaking point, the pleasure building upon itself exponentially, doubling and doubling again to the point of no return.

“Vex.” He barely managed her name, a low, rough gasp. “Vex! I can’t… _ooooh_ …Vex, I’m going to…”

“Yes.” She purred right back at him. “Mmmm. Yes darling, I know.”

He would have pulled out. Would have, save when he tried she simply tightened her thighs around him and ground herself down more forcefully, rolling her hips hard against his, and then it was too late. He bucked up against her, back arching, throwing his head back, and the cry she pulled out of the depths of him would probably leave his throat raw.

The world went away then, for a little while. When it came back, slowly, in bits and pieces, he was shuddering and groaning, hands tight on her hips, rocking against her as she rolled her hips against him, drawing the last few shivers of pleasure out of him and milking him for everything he had.

“There we are.” She sounded ridiculously pleased with herself. “There we are.” And then she leaned down to kiss him, languid and gentle, and he wrapped his arms around her and returned it.

When they parted at last she settled in comfortably on his chest, tucking her head under his chin, still straddling him. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the comfortable exhaustion, savoring the faint lavender scent of her hair and the pleasant weight of her against him.

“You shouldn’t have let me do that.” He said after a few heartbeats.

“Mm? Do what?” She made no effort to move off of him, and he would have cut off his own arm rather than shift her at the moment. “Darling, I very much wanted everything I just let you do.”

“No, I…” He could feel himself blushing again. Dammit. “I...you know. Finish. Inside.”

A moment of silence. Then she shifted, at last, sitting up again with her hands on his chest, and damn her but that glint in her dark eyes was sheer amusement. She laughed at him, a low, lovely sound.

“That’s very sweet of you.” She leaned down and kissed him gently on the nose. “But it’s quite all right. I took precautions, darling. And…well.” She looked away a little, the tips of her ears coloring slightly. “I wouldn’t let just anyone, you know, but…well. It’s you.”

_Good lord._

He reached up to cup her cheek, ran his thumb over her cheekbone. “Well then.” He managed to keep his voice steady. “So long as you’re sure, I’m certainly not going to complain.”

“I am.” She leaned into his touch, and there was something fond and soft in her eyes as she looked down at him, and if he’d ever been happier than he was right in that moment he couldn’t remember it. And then that glint of sheer wicked humor was back, and she said “So I take it that’s a ‘talk after’, then?”

He couldn’t help it. He started laughing aloud, genuine laughter, and he hadn’t done that in far too long, and it always had been her that was best at getting it out of him. He laughed until he was gasping for breath, and then he had to draw her down for a kiss, still smiling, and she was smiling against his lips, and if he died tomorrow then at least he’d had this.

“Gods but I love you.” The words came surprisingly easily, in the end. “Even if you just ruin all my plans.”

“Darling.” She placed a hand on her chest, mock-insulted. “Especially.”

“Yes.” He agreed, because it was true, after all. “Fair enough. Especially when you ruin all my plans.”

“It’s good for you.” She said blithely, but then she looked down at him for a moment, and the warm fond sort of tenderness crept back in, and that she could look at him like that settled warm and bright in his chest. “I’m…Percy…”

He laid a finger against her lips. “Ah ah. That’s the talk. And we’re not having that until we start drinking, remember?”

She smiled. "Fair enough, darling."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking, drinking, and more playing Hide the Gunslinger's Favorite Weapon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I am NOT dying before this shit goes down." -Taliesin Jaffe, Critical Role Ep. 78, THAT scene.

Vex sat back on his thighs for a moment, and admired her handiwork. Percy was disheveled, wonderfully so, loose-limbed and relaxed in the way men typically were after sex, looking up at her with unashamed adoration. His hands were still on her hips, his thumbs absently tracing little circles on her skin.

_Mmmm._ Oh, _yes._ He looked exactly as good in her bed as she’d thought he would. She bent down to kiss him again, and he returned it eagerly, one hand sliding up to rest between her shoulders. When she pulled away she nipped at his lower lip, drawing a rumble from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Well then. Be a dear, then, and go fetch it.” She climbed off of him at last, to his obvious disappointment, and prodded him gently in the chest, tilting her head in the direction of the bag he’d brought. It was sitting near the door still, at the end of the trail of his discarded clothes.

 He chuckled softly. “Of course. Just let me…” He glanced around, squinted, reached reflexively to the top of his head, found nothing, and frowned. “Vex dear, where did…”

She rolled over, leaned over the edge of the bed and retrieved his glasses from the floor, giving them a quick polish on the bedclothes before shuffling back and delicately sliding them into place on the bridge of his nose. “There you are, darling.”

As soon as the glasses were on the squint vanished, and he obligingly rose and went to retrieve the bag of alcohol. Vex shifted up the bed to lean against the pillows, making herself comfortable, and appreciated the view. Percy had a _very_ nice ass; she’d admired it more than once even before she’d felt anything for him beyond simple friendship.

Across the room, Percy fished the bottle labeled ‘Courage’ out of his satchel, along with two tumblers. As he turned, he caught her ogling, and flushed slightly. She winked, and took the opportunity to have a _proper_ leer at the bits of him that she so rarely got a good look at; the red spread from his neck up to his ears. He did not, however, make any motion to cover himself, which she’d half-expected, even given the circumstance. Percy could be so damnably _proper_ sometimes, and she swore that most everyone born into nobility had the same prudish ideas about modesty crammed into their heads early on.

 Her father, being his usual asshole self, had tried to do the same to her and Vax. It had never taken, more than a little out of pure spite from both of them.

She hummed to herself as he returned to the bed, bottle and tumblers in hand. Percy, unlike some men she’d known, didn’t have much hair on his chest. She’d wondered, more than once, if the steel-gray of his eyebrows and sideburns (and stubble, when he’d gone a few days without shaving, which was more often than not) mirrored the coloring of _other_ hair. The few times she’d snuck a good look at him without a shirt on, the trail of short hairs leading south from his navel had suggested that, indeed, none of his hair had remained unaffected by the shock that had turned him prematurely white.

He sat down on the bed beside her, settling back against the pillows propped against the headboard.  She took the tumblers as he uncorked the bottle with an expert twist, and poured. The liquor was a dark burgundy, and smelled faintly of raspberries.

“To courage.” He raised his glass. She clinked hers against it and drank.

I was nice. Very nice; slightly sweet, and she could taste…hmm...raspberries, yes, and possibly blueberries and something tarter as well. She took a deeper drink as Percy tipped his own glass back.

“Mmm. Darling, this is _lovely.”_

“I thought you might like it. I was always fond of it.” He sounded pleased with himself.

“You’ve good taste. And I know the answer to one question, now.” She said conversationally, as she watched the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed. He still had the faint impression of her teeth there, just below his ear; she smirked to herself.

“Mm?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, curious.

“The carpet _does_ match the drapes.” She sipped again, innocently, as he sputtered and nearly choked, leaning forward to cough. She patted him helpfully on the back until he could breathe again.

“Oh, good lord.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as she cackled and swiped the bottle to top off her glass; it really was quite excellent. “You’re _awful.”_

“What? It’s a reasonable curiosity.” She ruffled his hair, letting her nails scrape gently along his scalp. His eyes dropped half-closed, and he leaned into the touch; delighted, she repeated the motion. “You have to admit, it’s a striking look, darling. Must have been a shock, when it started coming in all white and grey.”

“A bit of one, yes. But, really, I honestly never thought about it that much.” He closed his eyes completely as she continued to massage his scalp. “At the time, well. I had…somewhat more pressing matters on my mind at first. And by the time you sprang me from that cell, I suppose I’d just gotten used to it.” He finished off his Courage; Vex left off ruffling his hair and refilled his glass for him.

“What color was it?” Vex shifted over to lean up against his side; he raised an arm obligingly, and she snuggled up against him happily, leaning back against his chest. He settled his arm back around her waist, and she felt his lips press against the crown of her head. “You know. Before.” He hesitated a moment, and her heart dropped at her thoughtlessness; his life before the Briarwoods was always a bittersweet thing for him, she knew, and she knew very well how much memories of what you’d lost could hurt.

_A little cottage, the table mostly covered by their mother’s work. She’d gotten a good job, mending the linens for a local inn, and had bought some ribbon to tie the end of Vex’s braid, blue and brilliant…_

But then the moment passed, and she felt him shrug. “Just…brown, I suppose. Much like Cassandra’s; nothing all that special.”

Vex pictured Cassandra for a moment, imagined that dark chestnut brown on Percy. It wasn’t an unappealing picture. “Mmm. You’d still be quite handsome, I think.”

A low chuckle. “Well. _That’s_ a matter of opinion. I’m glad you think so, at least.”

She twisted and tilted her head up enough to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, quietly thrilling that she _could,_ that he welcomed it with a soft hum and a slight tilt of his head. His skin was surprisingly soft, and she could feel his pulse against her lips, and _oh_ but that was still such a marvelous thing. She could remember so clearly yet placing her fingers there and feeling nothing at all, and the sick horror of seeing those lovely blue eyes staring unseeing at the sky, at seeing that fair skin streaked with his own blood, so very much of it, the sensation of reaching out to heal him and finding nothing, nothing for her magic to latch on to, no spark of life left at all…

She shuddered a little, and pressed closer against him, laid her free hand on his chest to feel the beat of his heart. _He’s here. He’s warm and alive and here and mine._

_And we might both die tomorrow,_ her mind whispered to her. She shuddered again, and quickly tamped that thought back down into the corner where it belonged right now.

He must have realized the train of her thoughts; he set the bottle carefully aside, balancing it between a pillow and the headboard, and reached up to take her hand in his. Her breath caught a little when he raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it, because _oh…_

“I’m all right.” His voice was gentle. “None of that right now. I’m right here.”

Yes. Yes, he was right; if this was her last night alive, she was damn well going to _enjoy_ it. She gave herself a little mental shake, and knocked back the rest of her Courage. He retrieved the bottle and topped her off

“You meant it?” The question came unbidden.

“Meant what?”

She sat up to meet his eyes; she’d always liked his eyes. They were a lovely shade of blue, and right now were fixed on her with the sort of focused intensity that was such a very integral part of him. “You said you loved me.” Her voice caught on the words a little, and she didn’t know how to tell him properly what they meant to her, how she could hear him saying them still, how they settled in her chest and warmed her right through.

“Yes.” His voice was soft, and he didn’t break eye contact. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

The alcohol was beginning to work; she could feel the beginnings of a pleasant buzz, and the sheer heady glee at his words only added to the effect, and she’d known, she’d known since he kissed her, but hearing it was… _well._

“Percy.” She started, and the words came more easily now than they had in the forest but she still found herself tripping over them; she had never been good at this sort of thing. She’d never _done_ this sort of thing, for that matter; Vax was the one who rushed into these things, who got hopelessly attached and made heartfelt confessions. “Percy…when…when you died…when we brought you back…I…”

“I know.” His voice was still soft.

“I…” She blinked at him, thrown off. “You _what?_ I thought...You said you didn’t remember!”

“I didn’t. Not at first.” He shrugged. “But…bits have come back. Enough.” A little half-smile. “Mine’s yours too, if you’ll have it. Has been for ages, really.”

She had to kiss him, then. He tasted of the sweet-tart liquor, and he kissed her like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. The warm pleasant buzz of the liquor blended so seamlessly with her euphoria at his words and the warmth rekindling in her belly that it was all one, and when he set their empty glasses aside and rolled her underneath him she welcomed it, welcomed his weight pressing her into the featherbed, welcomed the rasp of his callused hands against her skin.

He took his time, this time. She wrapped her legs around his hips and let him, and _ooh,_ but it was _lovely_ , to feel the flex of his muscles under her hands as she clutched at his back. It was lovelier still to feel him slide into her, that wonderful aching fullness, to hear him groan as he did so.

“ _Fuck.”_ The word was very quiet, hissed through his teeth. Percy didn’t swear nearly as much as some of the rest of them, and it was almost shockingly arousing to hear him do so now. The warmth in her belly flashed into fire, and she moaned involuntarily, rolled her hips upwards to try and get him to move. He did, and everything dissolved into a warm haze of skin and sweat and pure delightful sensation for a time.

After they were finished, he propped himself on one elbow to keep his weight off of her, his forehead resting against hers as they both let their breathing even out. He was sweating; she was simply pleasantly cozy.

“Mmmm.” She smoothed a hand down his back, delighting in the feel of his muscle sliding under skin as he breathed; he wasn’t a big man by any means, but he was _very_ nicely defined where it mattered. “So. Darling. Admit it; this is exactly what you had in mind when you came here tonight, wasn’t it?”

A long pause. And then, “I may have had certain, ah, _hopes_ for the night, yes.”

“I thought so.” She said smugly. “No man brings alcohol up to a woman’s bedroom at this hour with pure intentions. So.” He lifted himself up at last, propping himself up on his elbows; she slid his glasses down from the top of his head and back into place on his nose. “Aren’t you glad we skipped right to this part? Saved a terrible lot of time, really.”

He gave her a look that was equal parts fondness and exasperation; the effect of the latter was somewhat dulled by the fact that his hips were still fitted snugly against her own, and her legs still tangled with his. “I had a plan, I’ll have you know.”

“You usually do.”

He shifted off of her at last, rolling onto his back with a sigh. “It was going to be lovely.”

“I’m sure it was.” She sat up and reached for the bottle of Courage again; the buzz was starting to fade a bit. She smirked when the motion put her breasts perhaps an inch from his face, and he made an approving little sound in the back of his throat. “But this is much better, isn’t it?”

 “At the moment, that is a very difficult point to argue against.” She arched her back a little to give him an even better view. “Yes. You’re quite right, this is much better.”

“Of course it is, darling.” She said, smug, and sat back up, uncorked the bottle, and poured. They were nearly halfway through it now. She dangled the full glass temptingly just above his face; he took it and levered himself up into a sitting position against the headboard. She tucked herself back in against his side, and on a whim reached up and plucked the spectacles off of his face. He made an indignant sound of protest and grabbed for them, but she’d already put them on. The room blurred, and she squinted. It didn’t help.

“Oh, fuck me.” She adjusted the distance of the lenses from her eyes; it still didn’t help. “It’s like…like someone just smeared everything together.” She looked up at him, raised the glasses slightly to focus on him. He was glaring down at her, disgruntled. “Is that what it’s like for you all the time? You poor thing.”

“If by that you mean ‘couldn’t bloody focus on anything more than five feet away if my life depended on it’, then yes.” He retrieved his glasses and pointedly slid them back on, and then, with a perfectly straight face, added “and I just did. Twice.”

She blinked once, and then dissolved into delighted laughter, nearly spilling her drink, and oh, but they might both be dead tomorrow but it felt _good_ to laugh now. Percy was grinning, that little smirk he always got when he was being a smartarse and pleased with himself for it, and _oh_ but for now, in this moment, everything was perfect.

After she regained her breath, they finished off the rest of the bottle in companionable silence. It was lovely, to tuck herself in against his side with his arm around her waist, the alcohol rendering everything warm and giddy, his thumb absently stroking little circles against her skin as he upended the bottle and swigged the last few dregs straight from it.

“How long is ‘ages’?” She asked at last.

“What’s that?” He was feeling the alcohol too; his voice had that same little drawl that he always got when he was tipsy.

“You said you’ve been in love with me for ages. How long is that?”

“Oh. That. Well.” He tilted his head back against the headboard, as if calculating something. “Since maybe a month or two after you found me, I suppose.”

Her breath caught in her chest for a moment.

“Mind you, as soon as you walked into my cell I noticed how pretty you were.” He shrugged expansively; he was definitely edging past tipsy and well into drunk at this point. “I mean, I’m not _completely_ blind.” He blinked at her owlishly, the illusion only enhanced by his glasses. “You are, you know. Pretty, that is. I don’t know that I’ve ever said that to you before, but you ought to hear it.”

He seemed somewhat startled when she rose up to straddle his lap and kiss him, but responded immediately, tossing the empty bottle vaguely off to the side and reaching for her.

 It was a little more awkward, this time; they were both more than a little drunk. But it was _good,_ and for a little while longer she forgot all about dragons and saving the world.

After they finished, they lay there in a tangle of arms and legs for a long few minutes. Vex’s eyes were getting heavy, and Percy, apparently exhausted, seemed to have no intention of moving for the rest of the night. When he began to snore quietly, she roused herself enough to tug the blankets loose, and then draped herself contentedly over his chest. He made a rather marvelous pillow, she was delighted to confirm, and didn’t seem to mind her hogging the quilt. He stirred awake when she moved, but by the time she’d settled to her satisfaction, he was better than three quarters of the way back to sleep already.

“Goodnight, darling.” She murmured, and then pointedly went to sleep without thinking about what, exactly the morning would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You all get a full night's rest...most of you, anyway." -Matt Mercer, Critical Role Ep. 78.   
> "Oh, the Courage is GONE." Taliesin Jaffe and Laura Bailey, Critical Role Ep. 78.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh god oh god we've actually gotta go fight the giant fuckoff dragon of doom why god why how did this get to be our problem oh god we're nice-ish people we don't deserve this.

 Waking up in company was not exactly a regular occurrence in Percy’s life.

But here he was. And there _she_ was. And the sensation was…really very pleasant. And the events that had led up to it were…even more pleasant. He swallowed, hard, and a momentary little tingle of arousal went down his spine as the memories from earlier in the night replayed in a flash.

Vex was curled up against him, her back tucked in against his side. She’d pulled the blankets over them before falling asleep, but had stolen most of them at some point. Her hair was _everywhere;_ He gently removed a few strands from his mouth.

It was still dark outside the window. The fire had burned down to coals, and in the predawn hours of a spring night the room had grown chilly. Vex’s warmth was extremely pleasant, but there was still a chill that had settled into his bones and woken him. He shifted, carefully easing his way out of bed. Vex stirred and lifted up on her elbows, making a noise of protest.

“Percival?” Her voice was heavy with sleep, and oh but he _liked_ that sight. Even if he could scarcely make it out in the dim glow of the moonlight, it was striking; Vex’ahlia disheveled and relaxed and yawning, stretching until the blankets slipped down off of those lovely bare shoulders. “It’s not even light yet. Come back to bed, darling.”

“Just a moment.” His skin was prickling with gooseflesh in the chilly air. He thought idly that there really must be a more efficient way of heating a building, but filed the idea away under _later, if not killed by dragons_. He threw a few more logs on the fire. As they caught he pulled an extra blanket out of the chest at the foot of the bed, shook it out, and spread it over the bed before slipping back under the covers with her. Vex hummed approval and snuggled back up against him, and he was a little surprised by how very, _very_ much he enjoyed that simple little motion.

 He smoothed her hair out of the way and settled back down, settling an arm over her waist and closing his eyes.

When he woke again he was sprawled on his back. It was light outside, and his stomach dropped a little. He’d never considered himself a particularly brave man, and now, staring at the dawn light gilding the bedposts, he felt the familiar little cold fluttering of fear in his belly. He could remember, with awful clarity, Thordak’s burning eyes and the heat of those terrible flames as he tore into the people gathered at Sovereign Uriel’s behest. He really, _really_ didn’t want to go face that monster again; no sane person would.

But…well. There was really nothing else for it, was there? There was no one else, really, who had a chance against the Cinder King. He wondered, briefly and not for the first time, just how exactly they’d ended up here from their start as a bunch of…well, mercenaries, for lack of a better term.

_It’s what you get, I suppose, for being reasonably competent and somehow both spectacularly lucky and unlucky at the same time._

It was also, he mused, somewhat a confirmation of his long-held theory that the gods had a really awful sense of humor. That, after years of not much caring if he lived or died, (of _expecting_ it, even,) he found himself staring down the prospect of doing it for the _second_ time in less than a month (and this time with rather more fire and the prospect of becoming a snack for a titanic mutated lizard) only once he actually had something to lose.

Vex was still pressed close against him, now with one arm draped over his belly and a leg thrown across his. She was lying on his arm, using his shoulder as a pillow; his entire arm was numb. He shifted slightly, trying to move her enough to get some blood flow back; she grumbled in her sleep and didn’t budge.

He tried again, a little more insistently. His fingers were starting to tingle. She grumbled again, and woke with an irritable muttered curse.

“Sorry.” He retrieved his arm and flexed his fingers; they were going full pins and needles now. “Sorry, dear. But I can’t feel my hand.”

She propped herself up on her elbows to glare at him. Her hair was a wonderful mess, her eyes narrow and sharp. As she eyed him, though, her irritation softened and a little smirk replaced it.

“Well.” Her voice was a low, plush drawl. He swallowed, and under the blankets felt himself twitch. “You look properly wrecked, darling.”

Then she glanced towards the window, at that damnedly cheerful dawn light, and her smile faded. For a moment, the carefully constructed façade slipped, and he caught a glimpse of the frightened, unsure girl she kept so carefully buried. He felt quite suddenly selfish in his fear; however bad this was for him it was worse for her, he knew. It was _personal._ He understood that far, far too well.

“If we survive this.” Her hair, loose, was falling in her face. He brushed some of it back behind her ear, lingering for a moment on the delicate point of it. “And no other threats to the world end up falling into our lap, we are staying _in._ Not doing _anything._ Just for a week or so.”

She looked back at him. She didn’t exactly smile, but the dread in her eyes faded, just a bit. “Mmm. That sounds lovely. You have people who could bring our meals up, so we could stay in bed as long as we like?”

“Absolutely.” _That_ idea, the thought of not having anything to do but laze in bed with Vex’ahlia, without the threat of dragons hanging over them…of doing absolutely nothing but making love and sleeping and perhaps reading and sketching a bit, with no threats to their life looming…. _oh,_ but that _was_ a lovely thought. But…he smoothed back her hair again, more simply because he wanted to than because it was needed, and let his hand linger on her cheekbone. “So stay alive, all right? I know you like to wreck my plans..."

Her hand came up to cover his. She squeezed, just a little, and he saw her throat work as she swallowed. “I’ll try, darling. I rather like that plan; it would be a shame to spoil it.”

That was…well, that was all any of them could promise, he supposed. She swallowed again, hard, and there was the glint of tears at the corners of her eyes as she squeezed his hand again, harder. “But you must try not to die on me again, all right? Once was…more than enough.”

“I’ll do my best.” He promised.

“Good. See that you do.” She hesitated, and then slowly, haltingly. “Percy…I just…I just want you to know…I…” She looked away, huffing, and he could see tears threatening again.

He hated seeing her stumble like this, winding herself up around that little core of perceived unworthiness. Not for the first time, he felt a throb of resentment for Syldor. He couldn’t fathom, he really couldn’t, looking at Vex’ahlia and not being able to see her for the treasure she was. He stroked her cheek again, still quietly marveling that he _could_. “I know, dear.”

“No.” She shook her head, determined. “I might…I might not get another chance. Percy.” She reached up, traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips, and the look in her eyes was at once tender and terrified. The contrast from the smug confidence of the night before was shocking, but he’d come to take such shifts in mood in stride when it came to Vex’ahlia. “Percy, I...oh, _hell._ My heart’s yours, darling. So you need to not die, all right?”

He would have given very nearly anything to be able to reassure her that he wouldn’t, and would have given absolutely anything if it would have ensured that she made it through the day. But he was, after all, a practical man, and he couldn’t make a promise like that, knowing what they were about to face. So he did the only thing he could think of, and kissed her.  She pressed against him so closely that he could feel her heart beating fast against his own chest, knew that his was also beating nervously quick.

The gold and orange of the dawn light was fading towards the bright white of day. Their time was up; he knew it, knew she knew it.

“Well.” He said at last, when they parted. “Let’s go get this over with and kill this bastard, all right?”

He could almost see her pulling her armor of confident unflappability back around herself as she sat up, reluctant, and visibly steeled herself. “I suppose it’s time.” One last glance down at him, and a little of the softness crept back in. “See you on the other side, darling. One way or another.”


End file.
